Mistaken
by Dee Moyza
Summary: [Modern/Mundane AU] An exhausted Rinoa mistakes someone else's car for her own, resulting in minor damage to the vehicle. The car's owner is rightfully dismayed, and greets her with a scowl – and the loveliest blue eyes she's ever seen. [Silly meet-cute inspired by a Tumblr post]


Rinoa never thought she'd be happy to leave a bookstore. After working a shift and a half to cover for an absent coworker and helping process the weekly shipment, however, she was only too glad to push open the heavy front doors and step out into the cool air of a Balamb evening. Her back ached, her feet throbbed, and she was hungry. Feeling as she did, she could only imagine how Angelo must feel at the moment, having been cooped up in the apartment for twelve hours. Rinoa decided to pick up some dog treats on the way home as recompense, and resigned herself to cleaning up Angelo's mess once she arrived.

She drew her light sweater tighter around herself against the salt-tinged breeze and fished her keys from her purse. She scanned the parking lot and found her car, much closer to the store than she remembered parking it. She pressed the Unlock button on her key fob, but the car didn't respond. No lights, no click, nothing. She tried again, pressing harder. Still nothing.

The battery inside the fob must have died, she figured, though she hadn't had any problems with it recently. Grumbling to herself, she hobbled over to her car and slid the key into the lock.

It wouldn't turn.

She pulled the key out and examined it, then tried again, to no avail. She slid the key in and out, jiggled it in the lock, muttered a few curses under her breath, and hopped up and down. None of it helped.

She pulled the key out in a huff, moving her arm to the side too quickly, and catching the outside of the door with the tip of the key. The resulting scratch was jagged and slightly curved, and looked to Rinoa's tired mind like a nasty sneer. Her car was _sneering _at her.

She interpreted this as a dare.

She shoved the key back into the lock and turned with all her might. She could feel the key bend under the pressure, but no graceless heap of metal was going to get the best of Rinoa Heartilly. She readjusted her grip on the key and turned one more time, throwing her weight into the motion.

_Snap._

Rinoa stared at the head of the key in her hand for several seconds, unwilling to believe what had just happened. Then, she clenched her fist around it and unleashed a barrage of insults toward the car.

"You stupid piece of garbage!" she shouted. "You worthless stack of scrap metal! I knew I should've traded you in for a better model! Now look what you've done! Now I'm stranded out here and I'm tired and I'm _hungry_ and neither of us is going anywhere! Look. What. You. Did!" She punctuated the end of her rant with a solid kick to the front tire. Not satisfied, she walked toward the back and administered several kicks to the tire there, as well. She was stalking around the trunk to continue her assault on the tires on the other side, when the sound of someone coughing caught her attention.

A man stood on the curb just outside the bookstore, holding a cup of coffee from the café inside. He pounded his chest and shook his head, holding up one finger as if he wanted to say something. Rinoa remained where she was, unsure whether he would appreciate help, even if he needed it.

He didn't need help. After one last cough, he cleared his throat and glared at her. "What do you think you're doing?" he rasped.

"Getting even," Rinoa answered.

"Getting even? For what? I don't even know you!"

"What? Why would that matter? I'm getting even with my _car_, for being such a meanie and not letting me inside!"

The man looked from her to the license plate on the front of the car, then back. His expression wavered between disbelief and barely-contained rage.

"This is my car," he said quietly.

"_Pssh._ No it's not, it's clearly …" Rinoa looked through the window and saw a spotless interior, with no personal effects of the sort she'd loaded her car with. No fluffy Moogle hanging from the rearview. No solar-powered Pupu stuck to the dash. No dog hair on the passenger seat, and definitely no basket full of well-loved squeaky toys in the back. In fact, it looked clean enough to be a rental. "…_Oh_."

"Is that all you're going to say?"

"No. Well … well, how come it doesn't have an alarm? I would've known right away that it wasn't my car, if _your _car had a working alarm!"

"It has one. One that works _too_ well. It's overly sensitive, so I just lock the car manually." He crossed his arms. "And, if this was _your _car, wouldn't your alarm have gone off?"

He was right. How could she have been so dumb? Easy; she was tired. Rinoa stuck out her chin. "Maybe. Or, maybe I forgot to set it. I sometimes go all manual myself."

"I doubt it."

"Well, I'm sorry!" Rinoa bit her lip and shook her fists slowly, trying not to cry. It had been such a long day, and it had gotten so much longer in just the last few minutes. "I just got off of work. I'd been there since eight this morning. I'm tired, and I guess I wasn't thinking straight. My car looks exactly the same, and all I could think about when I saw yours was getting inside and going home to my dog. To take a shower and go straight to sleep. And when the car wouldn't open … I got mad … and I … kinda lost it."

"Kinda?" The man sighed and walked toward her, his anger tempered by her explanation. He stood next to her and held out his hand, palm up. She looked up at him and her eyes widened. He was very nice-looking, especially now that he wasn't scowling, and he had the loveliest blue eyes she'd ever seen. If only she hadn't met him in such an embarrassing situation!

She glanced at his hand and tried to determine what he wanted. Money? Of course. She had damaged his car, and he would need to call a locksmith to get the broken key out of the lock. She frowned and looked him in the eyes.

"I'm very sorry," she said, "but I don't have cash on me right now. I can find an ATM and get right back to you, but –"

"I'm not asking for money."

"What, then?"

"Your keys." Though his expression remained neutral, she could hear the exasperation in his voice.

Rinoa dropped the keys into his palm. He pressed the Unlock button on her key fob and scanned the parking lot. He pressed again, then pointed toward a pair of flashing taillights.

"There," he said, returning her keys. "There's your car. And it looks nothing like mine."

"They're both silver!" Rinoa protested. She looked at the broken key in her hand and her stomach sank. "But it looks like mine's not going anywhere for a while."

She and the man stood in silence for a few seconds. Then, Rinoa heard a click behind her, and the man opened the back door to his car. He angled his head toward the seat.

"Sit down," he said, a faint flush creeping across his cheeks. "At least to get out of the wind."

Rinoa did so, grateful to be off her feet. She pulled her phone out of her purse and dialed the taxi company, while the man placed a call to an all-night locksmith. The locksmith arrived first, and within minutes, had the broken key out. He seemed confused when the man instructed him to give the key to Rinoa, and walked back to his truck muttering and shaking his head.

Rinoa exited the man's car and closed the door as gently as she could, trying desperately to avoid causing any further damage to the vehicle, no matter how minor. She wrapped her sweater around herself and was on her way to her own car when the man cleared his throat again.

"You, uh … you don't have to do that," he said.

"Do what?" she asked in monotone.

"Er, you don't have to wait for the taxi. It's Friday night, they're probably swamped. I can give you a ride."

Rinoa sniffed. "Oh, so you can accuse me of damaging the _inside _ofyour car, too? No thanks, I'll wait out here."

"No. So you can get somewhere safe and warm. I don't like what you did to my car, but I don't like the idea of you standing out here waiting, either. The bookstore will be closing soon, and it's dark, and … listen, do you want a ride or not?"

Rinoa giggled. The man had looked so put-together, she never expected to see him flustered. "Well, I don't know," she said coyly. "A woman really shouldn't accept a ride from a stranger."

"Whatever." He opened the driver's-side door, but didn't get in. "Last chance."

Rinoa looked over her shoulder at her car, and the dark parking lot around it, and decided to take her chances. She slid her phone into her sweater pocket for easy access, and walked toward the man. She extended her hand.

"I'm Rinoa," she said. When he frowned and tilted his head, she rolled her eyes and smiled. "If you're gonna be my taxi for the night, we might as well introduce ourselves."

He nodded, then gave her a quick handshake. "Squall," he said.

"Ooh, interesting name! It's dark and mysterious, kinda like —"

"Just get in the car."

They drove through the streets of Balamb, Rinoa giving him directions to her apartment building and staging a mini interview in-between. Squall had grown up in Balamb, though he'd been born in Winhill. He worked in the accounting department of an outdoor-supply store and would really appreciate it if she kept her questions to herself. Rinoa laughed, and told him a bit about herself, about growing up in Deling City, but moving to Balamb because she'd visited once and liked the atmosphere; about her dog, Angelo; about her dream of one day opening a _real _bookstore, one that was small and cozy with dark wooden shelves crammed with books on every subject, both smooth-spine new and scruffily pre-loved.

She glanced at Squall and was surprised to see a little smile on his lips.

"That's nice," he said, sincerely. "I hope you get that someday."

"Yeah. And what about you? Do you have any dreams for the –"

"No more questions, remember?"

"Oh. Right. I forgot." She sighed and looked ahead. "Turn left here, and it's the third building on the right."

When Squall pulled up to the curb, she got out of the car and thanked him. "It really was kind of you to drive me home, especially after what I did to your car."

He shrugged. "No problem."

"So … catch you later, Squall?"

"Oh, definitely."

"What? Really?"

"We still have to deal with that scratch in the door."

"Oh. That." Rinoa hung her head, but looked up when she heard Squall chuckle softly.

"And," he went on, "I don't believe you've run out of questions for me, either. Have you?"

A grin spread across her face and she shook her head. She bid him good night and closed the door – again, gently – then walked up the steps to her apartment, her feet light, her back fine, and her mind lit up with endless possibilities, all featuring the loveliest blue eyes she'd ever seen.

\- END -


End file.
